here is the on-going saga of a humorless zombie-fighting mama in some dystopian future.
“the night smelled of grapefruit–“
“it’s my story; i can make the night smell any way i want.”
“But grapefruit is more of a morning smell.”
“maybe that’s the point.”
“I’m just saying.”
“what do you want? tangerine? clementine?”
“At least clementine is ambiguous…but why does it have to be citrus at all?”
“because that is what the night smelled like!”
“How about the night smelled of pine & fertile soil?”
“that is a completely different story.”
dialogue has always been my favorite part about writing. maybe because of all the voices in my head? this is a conversation i played in my head one night after i smelled a citrusy evening. i am also drawn more to works that contain more dialogue than description. waiting for godot was a favorite of mine. also rosencrantz & gildenstern are dead.
once upon a time i thought i would like to write screen plays…but then i got distracted by comics.
i just love a good conversation.
this is the first page of a new episode of moses jones. for previous pages, check out my moses jones page.
i’m not sure what happens next, but i guess i will find out.
my life is full time
one of the things i actually
i said the thing about LARPing to my ex the other day as i was wearing my “utility belt” with my bokken tucked into it. i have goggles, tiaras, tutus, boots, belts, hats, and a variety of real & toy weapons that i play with.
life is a dress up party. or (from a poem i once wrote) every day is halloween.
we have friends who LARP (live action role playing for y’all who aren’t nerds)…but i am not sure i ever stop role playing. maybe there is a term for this? motherhood?
i think i channeled some shel silverstein in this quick comic doodle.
that’s what we called them when he brought them home to us in that plain white box that meant one thing:
except this plain white box held plain cake doughnuts…no frosting. no sprinkles. no custard….
we imagined them to be the doughnuts one bought to say:
“you did a subpar job”
“you barely passed your exams”
“it’s not me; it’s you”
first world problems, i know, but it is now an inside joke with my oldest son ever since my ex brought us home a box of plain cake doughnuts. they actually weren’t that bad once we got past the disappointment of them not being chocolate.
title: the wonderland that is social anxiety
1st…shopping with the amish
me: do you have any straw for sale
clerk: check with owen
2nd…my thinking: why didn’t i ask who owen is?
straw hat & beard, right? haha.
3rd…my thinking: i should ask them, but i’m pretty sure
they were speaking english before they saw me….
(two men speaking gothic german)
4th…me: nope! no straw today, thanks!
i was at this amish store one day, and i went up to ask the clerk something. i posed my question to the man standing next to the check out counter only to be told, “i don’t work here.”
i was mortified. i felt like a total ass. i think this contributed to my not asking, “who is owen?”
yay for social anxiety.
i am having fun translating my thoughts & obsessions into comics. these are all rough doodles. maybe i will finish them one day? maybe there will be a more neurotic comics! eventually?
titled: notes from the motherhood
i’ve begun to fantasize about billy bob thornton
billy bob: these children giving you a hard time, ma’am?
i can take care of them for you….
my thinking: i’m not sure what he means by “take care of”
but at this point i’m ready to roll those dice.it has been a hard time at madness manor while children’s nastiness runs at full speed. i am not sure how many of them wished me dead yesterday. i wonder if those parents who spank & do worse are actually doing the right thing because being a kind & affectionate mom seems to be failing miserably? will they grow up to be nice adults despite being assholes as kids? i was physically & emotionally abused as a child–which prevented me from being an asshole–but now i am a hot mess of a grown up. will it work opposite for my kids?
these are the things i wonder as they scream horrible things merely because they did not get what they wanted….
to beat or not to beat my kids?
i do not have the stomach to be an abusive parent…but i can write comics!
obviously i need to look at what billy bob thornton actually looks like. i plan to practice that with some google pics….
meanwhile, i did doodle some pictures of nasty little children
& one doodle of one of my actual children, but not looking nasty today. pleasant children mostly today….
comic to be titled: how am i supposed to have any hope for the human race?
panel one: i dyed my hair blonde once
panel two: country singers invited me to their motel rooms
panel three: boys fought each other to walk me home
panel four: it wasn’t even that good of a dye job
here is my efforts to turn random thoughts into an art form.
does it work?
at least it keeps me entertained….
note…only one country singer invited me to come to his motel room
being the embodiment of earthly punishments
used to bother
but now she gets a slight high
just thinking of it
a case of the giggles even
she thinks it would be nice
to be an earthly reward…
but that is probably reserved for someone named
i have written so many beginnings to stories. you never know. i might finish it…turn it into a comic, a short story, or even a novel, but for now it lives as a journal page.
i think i recently read in a book a quote by a poet to the effect of: i write instead of screaming
for the life of me i cannot access where i read this. i have been reading a lot of books lately.
nevertheless–this is true for me. my writing & my art are what i do to keep from losing my mind. so i take these dark little thoughts and try to make something beautiful (?) out of them…or at least something interesting.
i am not a martyr
for my cause
i am not
going to suffer
so you can
i will ride in
on a horse called fury
i will swing
you will all be relieved to hear i was able to download more criminal minds after i figured out that the site i use had changed addresses & i was following a dead link…. yup.
in last night’s watched episode, my favorite character (dr. reid) said, “everything falls apart…the trick is letting go.”
which i’m sure he was saying right to me–yes?
it feels to me like i am often watching everything fall apart.
add in trying to figure out who i really am…am i a good person? or am i a serial killer who just has not yet been triggered? i honestly lean more to the latter these days.
i am exhausted by thoughtless people.
speaking of! i am playing with two new ideas for comics.
and the misanthropic philantropist